


isolines

by lady_peony



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Gen, and a non-relationship, horrible exorcists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_peony/pseuds/lady_peony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are so few dependable things nowadays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	isolines

"Stop it." 

Shuuichi's fingers missed dark feathers to catch empty air. 

The assignment had gone as smoothly as he could have hoped for; the target easier to handle than the ones he had encountered before. It had a taste for winged prey rather than human ones. 

A small mercy, though its teeth were no less sharper for that. The biggest puddle by the pagoda trees had been barely half the size of his hand, the scattered feathers blue, gold, cream clinging to rust-red. 

What Shuuichi held between his hands now was not some delicate-colored songbird. The body twisted between his fingers, caws issuing from its beak in a loud stream. 

The left wing jutted out at an disagreeable angle, like the line of a key jammed the wrong way into a lock. 

Shuuichi rose from his knees on the grass and stretched up, as high as his hands could reach. He relaxed his grip once he felt the crow settle onto the branch, a few leaves drifting down past his eyes as he drew his hands back.

A whirlwind of finches abandoned their perches as Shuuichi yelped and stumbled back three steps. 

When he looked down at his right forefinger, a bead of red swelled on its surface. 

Shuuichi looked back up at the crow, which gave another scathing caw before it hopped higher up the branch, to where Shuuichi couldn't see him.

Silly, to have expected any thanks.

 

_

 

"Generous." Shuuichi glanced over the lower portion of the scroll. "The terms are final?"

"The payment can be--negotiated--if need be." The other exorcist is pale, his color almost as insubstantial-seeming as rice paper. "The addition of a family-kept binding spell--much more agreeable, hmm?" He tapped the scroll with no more force than a raindrop dissolving into mist. 

Usually, such agreements are more informal. Verbal assent serves well enough in many cases. 

Written ones are far rarer. The paper is of a fine quality and the writing orderly, without a single stroke misplaced. It speaks of a painstaking care with tradition. The clan is another old one; not as far back as the Natori, but old enough to gather pause when their names are spoken. 

"Well," Shuuichi said. "I am flattered my name was brought to your attention. But I cannot accept." He shrugged, smiled with a gracious sort of resignation. The colors of the table, of Shuuichi's hand, are burnt white, soaked in the saturated light from the window. 

"I cannot blame you." The figure sitting opposite of Shuuichi nodded, his eyes sleepy-looking. "Two before you had refused. Being cautious is not a fault, after all." At the last sentence, he smiled humorlessly, mouth drawing into a needle-thin line.

Without looking, Shuuichi sensed Urihime emerging from his side, unbidden.

Shuuichi took his hands off the scroll to rest them in his sleeves. There is no need to stir bad feeling here. Urihime didn't speak. Neither did she withdraw.

"There are enough eyes on the Matoba clan, as it is. What would mine see that others do not?" Shuuichi felt the last dregs of his tea slip down his tongue. "If you excuse me," he said, putting down the cup and rising to his feet, "another meeting awaits my presence. If there is something more interesting, you know how to find me."

An exhale hissed behind Shuuichi's back, scratchy with contempt. 

"They have eyes to see. You think they would not watch you?"

Shuuichi paused, halfway through buttoning his jacket. "Is that what they're doing? My life off-screen is not as glamorous as some would think. I'm afraid they would be disappointed." 

He slid the door shut behind him and Urihime floated through a second after, following his path.

 

_

 

It has been a long time since he had depended on any cases for his meals. He's grateful, he supposes. There are so few dependable things nowadays.

His client had been satisfied with today's report; an expected result, even if the rewards were not. There had been a shocking lack of injury as well, which was a pleasant surprise. 

Perhaps, he considered, after checking his watch, he even had enough time for an extra nap today before his late-night scene. His ears had caught more than a few grumbles from his manager over the dark circles Shuuichi sported during the last episode.

Shuuichi is even in a light enough mood to acknowledge a greater number of cordial greetings than usual, to greeters masked or not, friendly or only seeming in truth.

Closer to the door, as Shuuichi passed a group, the conversation hushes. Just for a moment. 

From the circle of paper faces and standing limbs and paws, a pair of _geta_ detached itself. 

Shuuichi slid his eyes over his shoulder at the clacking sound. As they walked, the figure's robes billowed, the same green of old bamboo. Shuuichi gathered an impression of a brown beard, shadowed with a gaze radiating contempt.

Slowing his steps to a stop, Shuuichi set his shoulders.

"Natori."

Shuuichi swung his head towards the voice in front of him. As he did some of the crowd around him had backed away to leave a small semicircular space between themselves and where he stood. 

And none of their ears were waiting for his response. Of course they weren't.

Nanase-san peered up at him, two masked shiki or servants at her side. She was smiling benignly, as she was wont to do. "My, it has been some time since we have seen your face." 

"Nanase-san." Shuuichi bowed, almost exaggeratedly. "I was about to take my leave. But how can I be of service?" 

"You had finished some good work, I heard." Nanase dropped a scroll into Natori's hand. "I trust you can take care of this as successfully?"

Shuuichi weighed the scroll in his hand. "I can take a look."

Maybe after his nap. He never promised he would be quick about it.

Nanase nodded. Flicking her eyes over Shuuichi's shoulder, her gaze gained a distinctly pointed look. "Yamazaki-san, is it? What news from your last bounty? Or was it a request you had for Natori?"

Shuuichi looked behind him. An unsettled expression passed briefly over the exorcist's--Yamazaki-san's face. "No, Nanase-san," Yamazaki-san said. "No request. I happened to need to leave, in a little hurry, that was all. Aunt Fumiko sends her greetings." With a duck of his head, he slipped through the crowd past Natori, past Nanase-san, pushing through to the door. 

"Well, Nanase-san," Shuuichi said, obvious curiosity glinting in his voice against his better judgement. "What would you say if my schedule disallowed me to take this assignment?"

Nanase-san stared at him over her wire frames. "This was a special request. We will expect your word." 

 

_

 

Shuuichi whipped around on his heel, arms swinging by instinct more than sight. 

The staff in his hands jumped with the impact. 

His target sprang back. 

Shuuichi narrowed his eyes at the white mask, its features expressionless other than two staring holes left for eyes. Eyes which the creature lacked.

"Your hands are quick enough." The statement floated from somewhere over his back, near a patch of grey-green trees. "Apologies for the surprise, Natori-san."

Shuuichi gripped his weapon a little tighter, aware of how easily wood could splinter, no matter how fortified with charms of protection, layers of bleeding shapes in ink. He flashed his gaze over the landscape in front of him, steadied his breathing at the same time. Two small shadows glided across the ground, over his feet, then disappeared in a direction behind him with the soft flapping of wings. 

Towards the same direction of that voice. One that Shuuichi recognized. 

"A surprise?" Shuuichi said, not taking his eyes off the shadowy thing watching him. "Have the standards for shiki fallen so low? That those belonging to the Matoba house attack humans on sight?"

Matoba makes a sound, admonishing somehow, with the barest hint of amusement. "Really. These ones are still being trained. Time will improve their skills." 

Shuuichi turned, the grass underfoot shifting with his steps. He lowered his staff just a degree, elbows tensed in a defensive stance. 

"Matoba-san," Shuuichi said. The name comes out smoothly enough. He no longer struggles with words as he did in his younger days, as practiced with them as he is now. "Train them as much as you like. I, on the other hand, would like to leave the forest without any more surprises." He smiled, all earnest cheer. "It would be no trouble for you to keep them away from me, wouldn't it?"

Matoba tilted his head, a wave of hair ruffling with a hesitant breeze that disappears almost as soon as it starts. "You handled it well enough alone. Where are your shiki, Natori-san?" 

Shuuichi released his left hand from the staff, his fingernails dragging a little across his palm as he lowered his arm. "There wasn't a need for them. Not today."

He moved his legs, stepping down on moss and twigs with each stride. Matoba doesn't say anything more. Shuuichi doesn't bother with farewells. 

It does not take long before he is another section of the forest, the path underneath clearing from ankle-deep undergrowth to sandy paths.

Had Shuuichi looked back, he would have certainly seen Matoba step closer to the shadow-servants molded of earth and ink, and other materials, perhaps, which might have unnerved Shuuichi's mind if he thought on it too much. Matoba would have been speaking in that soft, unperturbed voice; a voice accustomed to dispensing favors and threats alike.

 

_

 

"When you fought those opponents on the roof before reuniting with the heroine--you were thirty floors high, weren't you? And you could see the ground through the glass floor? My heart was pounding just watching you! Wasn't it dangerous?"

The interviewer tilted forward, the studio lights glancing off silver earrings at each lobe. The microphone above them held steady. High enough to stay out of the camera's frame and close enough to catch the quiet hum of Shuuichi's throat while he lowered his eyelids into a contemplative look. 

"Was I scared? A little--ah, don't tell my movie fans. It would make me look too uncool." The following sunny laugh lapsed into a rueful smile, answered by a polite giggle from the interviewer. "But dangerous? How could it be? Not under the watch of such a helpful crew and director.

Besides, a little danger makes the romance shine more, wouldn't you say?"


End file.
